Tide Turner
by Alpacca Joe
Summary: What if Jane had never met Tom at the Zon that night? A Tom-free High School life may have led to a different romance further down the horizon.


"**Tide Turner**"

She gave her ponytail a last tug, smoothed her bangs down and gave a few stray hairs a final stroke, hoping they would lay flat. They didn't. With an easy shrug, she turned from the mirror and reached down to check her laces. Satisfied that all was in order, she walked out of the bathroom to her bedroom and gathered her things.

"Gawd, I _wish_ you would dress appropriately. I mean, a ponytail? Hello, can you say 'fourth grade'? How do you expect to get a guy when you're dressed like a hobo?"

Daria rolled her eyes and stuffed a sweatshirt into one of the bags sitting atop her bed.

"I'm going to the Laundromat, Quinn, not a speed date. I don't expect to 'get a guy,' I expect to wash my clothes in peace and come home."

"Hel-lo, Daria! Laundromat? Who do you think is going to be there?"

"In my experience, bratty kids, pissed-off housewives and college students jonesing for their fifth cup of coffee."

"And tons of single guys looking to meet interesting women, like you."

Daria hefted one bag under her arm and the other over her shoulder and fixed her little sister with a stare. Quinn stood in Daria's doorway, leaning against the door frame with arms crossed and eyebrows aloft. She wore one of her usual fashionable outfits of designer jeans and a Dr. Seuss baby tee. A pair of new sneakers that looked as though they had never touched pavement topped off the ensemble, with the addition of a cell phone clipped to the waistband of her jeans and a woven bracelet on her left wrist. Daria offered a bag to Quinn, who took it without complaint and followed her sister downstairs.

"If there are going to be so many guys there, why don't you come with me? I'm sure they'd be much more interested in you."

Quinn scoffed.

"I'm looking for rich guys, you can have the cast-offs."

The sisters shared a chuckle, Quinn helped Daria load her bags into Jake's Lexus and waved as Daria drove off.

It was November, the first holiday home from school. Daria and Jane had just returned to Lawndale from Boston for Thanksgiving and while Jane had taken the opportunity to catch up on some quality sleep, Daria took the practical approach and brought a month's worth of dirty clothes home to wash. Unfortunately, the washer was broken- though a local Wash and Fold still cost less than the laundry room in the dorms.

There were quite a few empty spots in the adjoining parking lot and after pulling into a slot close to the door, Daria ran inside to snag a cart and rolled it back to the car. After loading her bags inside, she rolled the cart to an unoccupied washer by a bench and started stuffing clothes inside. When the medium-sized machine was full of her colors, Daria turned to the row of small washers behind her and loaded her scant whites and her delicates. A change purse was pulled from a pocket of her jeans with some difficulty. They were a bit more snug than the bookish girl was used to, but as she abhorred clothes shopping, had yet to supplement her wardrobe with more current attire.

Daria sighed as she turned to study her reflection in the glass door of the machine holding her colors. Her butt, she decided, was definitely bigger. Hips rounder, and though she wore a sports bra as always, her bust was a bit more pronounced than it had been the previous year. She had so far gained only five pounds of the "freshman fifteen," but it seemed they had gone to the right places.

Chuckling, Daria struck a sarcastic pose, straightened her t-shirt, rolled her eyes at herself and turned to grab detergent so she could get the wash going in earnest. Her cart stood empty of even her bags, which she had thrown in with the rest of the load. She groaned. She had forgotten the detergent.

"Um, excuse me?"

Daria turned, frowning, to see a young man standing not five feet away, tending to his own needs at a machine down the row from her. Daria felt herself flush with the realization that he had likely witnessed her display of unaccustomed girlishness and willed the stained linoleum to open at her feet and swallow her whole. The guy smiled, his green eyes bright and friendly, brown hair falling boyishly over his forhead. He wore a faded blue Air Force sweatshirt, worn jeans and scuffed sneakers. The words "College Student" were practically stamped on his forehead.

"Y-yes?" Daria fought a wince. It was bad enough he had seen her Vogueing in front of a washing machine, but to sound like a school girl with her first crush, too? There was no god.

"I noticed you seem to have forgotten your soap," College Boy said with a lopsided grin and proffered a bottle. "If you like, you're welcome to some of mine, the counter help sells theirs kind of steep."

Daria took the proffered bottle, jumped a little when their fingers brushed. It was a bottle of Tide with built-in stain fighter, half full. She looked up at the guy and smiled, tentatively.

"Thanks." A slight hesitation, then "I'm Daria."

"Tom." He offered his hand and they shook. A moment later the bottle was returned and Daria started pumping quarters into the slot beside the knob marked COLD WARM HOT PRESS. She moved the switch over to COLD and hit start, then did the same with her whites. After setting that machine to WARM she took a seat on the bench and settled in to wait. "Hey, Daria?"

She looked up, surprised to see Tom standing a little off to the side, hands in his pockets. He shifted on his feet every few seconds and ran a hand over the back of his head in what seemed to be a nervous habit. Daria found herself endeared and nearly suffered a heart attack in shock.

"Um, yeah?"

"It's gonna be a while until the machines stop, so I was wondering," He cleared his throat and smiled. "Would you like to get some pizza while we wait?" Daria blinked. Had he just asked her out?

"Well... I-"

"It can be your way of paying me back for the laundry detergent."

Daria found herself smirking and chuckled as she stood.

"Very smooth."

"Thanks, I thought so."

They adjourned to a pizza place across the street and got to know each other over a slice apiece, Tom's treat. Daria payed for drinks. As it turned out, Tom was a student at Bromwell, Daria's first choice school, though she had failed to get in. The Air Force shirt had belonged to his uncle Theodore, who had chosen the military over a life of dry numbers and drier personalities in the family business. He was consequently written out of the family tree and therefore, Tom's favorite relative.

It also happened that Tom's last name was Sloane, the eldest son- and heir- to one of the wealthiest families in Lawndale. When their food was done, the pair returned to Wash and Fold and shifted their things to the driers. Twenty minutes later they agreed to meet at The Zon on Friday night to see the local bands preform.

Daria drove home in much higher spirits than when she had left, very much anticipating the retelling of events when she returned. Not only had she actually met someone at the Laundromat, but he was a handsome, smart, funny guy from a prestigious university who came from a rich family. Quinn would _die_.

Daria's smile widened. Life was good.


End file.
